In Need of You
by DanaeP24
Summary: Sherlock Holmes receives one of the most interesting cases he has ever gotten, but he needs someone to solve it.
1. Bored

He had been bored for a few days now. London had been wrapped in a period of peace and quiet, which meant that the criminals were getting lazy, at least to his standards. His inbox only had a few cases, none above a 4, and all of them had been either dismissed or solved without leaving the flat.

"This is annoying, my dear Billy. No interesting cases, no one is murdering anyone, so I feel myself rotting away. I need something!" said Sherlock, addressing the skull that currently occupied the seat belonging to his previous flatmate, Dr. John Watson, who at the time was attending to his wife and 6 month old daughter.

Sherlock headed towards the drawer on his desk, his fingers itching for the contact of the cold metal pistol that sat there, pulling it out carefully, as if dealing with a delicate flower. He held it up, pointing at the already beaten wall. "Maybe our little smiling friend needs some hair, don't you think?". His finger wrapped around the trigger, his feet planted on the floor, awaiting the recoil of the gun, his mind honed to make the shot, when his concentration was interrupted by a little ping coming from his computer.

"Finally!" A new email had arrived at his inbox, which meant a new case. Sherlock proceeded to put the lock on the gun, and then tossed it on the sofa, and sat down at the desk, with the hopes that someone had given him something of interest.

"Deer Mister Holms,

I 4 realsies need ur help!

Liek, I totally cannot find mae totes fave iPhone. It disapaered on me liek puff! And if I don find it soon my daddy is totes gonna keel me, like 4 realsies!

my BFF meghan totally digs you and she is like totatlly like in luv wit U! she even has her room filled with ur face like wahtever,so she told me to ask u to like help me, cuz of yur like sooperpower or whatever you have that can totaaly find like all thingds.

Ansd can like u doit like really really fast, cuz tomorrow Im going shoppin and will need to take selfies and pics, if not ill ve like totes a luser 4 not having my new phone.

C u latr!

Kathrina"

He could almost feel his blood boiling over such atrocity he had just been exposed to, and wished that he hadn't thrown the gun so far from the desk, thinking that it was now the laptop screen's fault for daring to display such an insulting case, so he resorted to slam shut the screen and curl up on the couch.

Instead of being able to delve into his thoughts, his mind was refusing to accept such message to go without some sort of snarky response. He went back to the desk, reopened the laptop and proceeded to type the following response.

"Miss,

I would firstly suggest for you and your parents to invest in either an English tutor to improve your grammar, or at least contemplate the idea of sending you back to kindergarten.

If I understood correctly, your phone is currently missing, but it is not. This is all a ploy from your "BFF" Meghan, who, as you say, has developed sentiments that I shall not even acknowledge, because they are of no use. She has your phone at her house, which she took from you and then proceeded to suggest that you should employ my services in the hopes that she would be able to meet me.

In regards of payment, I have already notified your parents about you contacting me, and have billed them properly. I believe your shopping indulgences will come to an end going from the tone of the response message I received from your father.

Next time, be considerate of my time and not waste it with such trivial matters.

S. Holmes"

Grinning like a madman, Sherlock pressed the send button, and closed the laptop, carefully this time. He was delighted to think of the yelling that the girl would endure, and the shock on the father's face when he saw the billing, which had been quite steep, even when the case could barely be considered a 1 on his scale. Sherlock didn't mind billing him so much, knowing that the father of the girl worked in the Department of Transport, in a rather important position, and was embezzling funds, so it seemed fitting charging so much for the inconvenience.

Sherlock was heading back to the couch, in order to resume with his attempt of going into his mind palace, when the familiar hurried steps of John Watson reached the door of 221B, opened the door and without removing his jacket, walked up to him, mobile at the ready, huge smile, indicative of something exciting. "Sherlock, mate, have I got a case for you!"


	2. Cache Mentions Stem

The dreams had come back. The flashbacks of the danger and the thrill that war had imprinted upon John Watson's brain. It had been a while since he had to deal with them, ever since learning that his wife was trained assassin and that he willingly went to bed with her every night, brought a tad of excitement to his life, but it seemed like it was no longer enough.

Becoming a parent, had so far been quite an experience for both him and Mary Morstan nee Watson although some could say that they had enough training taking care of one of the biggest babies they knew, a certain Consulting Detective. It was the unpredictability, the lack of a established schedule, and the immense love he felt for little Isabelle Watson that had substituted the need of adventure for the last 6 months.

Shame things had finally started to settle, with little Izzy now beginning to follow a somewhat normal sleeping and eating schedule, which made Mary most grateful, but John was suffering, and because of his previous track record, he had been forbidden to go storming in on crack dens, even if it meant being neighborly.

He had been in contact with Sherlock, in the hopes that a case would come up that would require them to get into some sort of action, or even some danger, only receiving a text message back telling him to stop being annoying, which would mean that Sherlock was equally as bored, and was also struggling to find ways to end his boredom.

Thankfully, John had the solace of his blog. When at first his psychiatrist had suggested for him to start writing, he dismissed the idea as a rather lame substitute to his experience in the war. But ever since his ridiculous adventures with Sherlock had begun, and his blog obtained a big notoriety, he found the thrill of writing as a good way of coping, plus, the idea that people had things to say about what he wrote was one of is guilty pleasures.

John had sneaked out of bed, the early rays of the sun already threatening to come through the window, and in attempt to leave both baby and mother to sleep peacefully, left the room as quietly as possible, heading towards the sitting room along with his laptop, so he could check on any new messages or comments on his blog.

This particular morning everything seemed quite normal, the usual messages saying how much they had loved the photo presentation on the last entry, or how well written the entry for the "Aluminum Crutch" was. The same came for the comments, which mostly were the same couple of people replying or arguing over some trivial thing, including several comments from Sherlock himself, which never failed to bring a smile to his face.

Since there were no indications of any new significant comments on the most recent entry, he decided to go back and look at the old entries, reminiscing about the tiny details he didn't include for the public, like the sight of Sherlock in full clown costume, with the big shoes and the red nose, trying to entertain a group of 8 year-olds just so they could interrogate one of the mothers attending the party, who turned out to be the President of a South American country and the key to solving the case.

John had been deep in his thoughts, that he didn't notice when Mary and Izzy joined him in the sitting room.

"Love, did you notice those weird comments on that entry up there? They kinda look like a code..." Mary pointed to the screen, while gently patting Izzy's back, in the hopes the baby would fall asleep again and would give her the opportunity for another nap.

"Mary, I still find it quite frightening the speed in which you recognize codes and patterns, but it is a bit sexy... But these make no sense at all, they are just random words strung together, probably a spammer. I don't really think that a comment like A_ Screech Folklores Mosh, A Checker Helms For Solos, Cheddar Tin Ritzy Knoll_ or _Danced Thorny Krill Zit_ have any meaning. "

"I don't think that's true, John. See the comments? From what I'm getting from here, is that they all have the same exact letters, just rearranged in a different order. They are anagrams."

In less than an hour, the couple had decoded the 2 messages that had been repeated in the avalanche of comments, Mary obtained further information while John got ready to go storming into Baker Street, no point in texting or calling Sherlock, since he knew it was more likely that his message or call would go ignored, and this was rather the answer to their needs, he needed to tell him in person.

Thankfully, John still had a key to his old flat, always conveniently forgetting to return it to Mrs. Hudson, and the one time he did, after he had a nasty domestic with Sherlock, the key had somehow returned to his keyring, either the work of his former flatmate, or maybe even Mary. He opened the door, and started his way up the stairs, ignoring his usual habit of a quick hello and bite to eat with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock needed to see the message.

He found Sherlock in the usual position, lying on the sofa, his hands in a prayer position, resting underneath his chin, eyes closed. John's mobile was ready, displaying the decoded messages on the screen, just getting closer to him, mobile extended towards him. "Sherlock, mate, have I got a case for you!"

"This better be good, John, I'm not bothering for anything less than a 7 right now."

"Trust me, this more than a 7, Sherlock", said John, thrusting his mobile phone into Sherlock's hands, urging him to read the messages. He had a small sample of the original comments, as well as the final decoded messages: **Case for Sherlock Holmes** and **Not crazy, I didn't kill her**.

"So, anyone with a bit of a brain could have done this. Goodbye John, give my regards to baby Isabelle for me. " Said Sherlock, handing the phone back and turning his back to John, curling up in a ball on the sofa.

"Just hear me, mate. Mary checked where all these messages had come from. Turns out that they came from a cell tower near Hanwell Asylum. Also, some comments had the added letter STR, which are the initials of the famous author Sofia T. Rogers, who was sent to that Asylum after she killed the president of her fanclub. She kept insisting that the ghost of the girl was haunting her."

Sherlock had sat up and was trying to process the information given. He wasn't familiar with the author, popular culture had never been of any use for him, but he remembered the news of the killing. "Still, someone could be in the vicinity, using a cellphone, not an indication that the messages came from inside."

"That was my first impression too, but it turns out that her son also received several text messages with the same phrases, as well as a phone call. Mary found his contact information, since he is away in college in America. We reached out to him, and verified that he had gotten a call from his mother, that she kept saying that the ghost had dropped the mobile, for him to help her out, before the call was cut."

"Ghost don't have mobile phones, John. Either this ghost is not what it seems, or we really have something rather interesting in our hands. We need to pay a visit to our new client. The game is on!"


	3. Who will it be now?

"Mate, you have to admit, that was hilarious!. We finally found that having an international reputation is useless if you ever need to investigate in medical facility." John kept grinning, reliving the scenario in which a full grown men had been pushed out the door of the reception by a tiny elderly woman. This was something he would never let Sherlock forget.

"Well, _Doctor_, your status was equally as useless. Besides, that lady was hard of hearing, making it pointless to continue to argue with her, althought she is knicking pills from the patients. I've just alerted her supervisor, so that will make it easier for us to get in next time." Responded Sherlock, trailing John, mobile phone already on his hands, texting away.

"I still doubt it, Sherlock. The sign and the yelling were pretty specific, that this place is a women only facility. So, unless you can magically transform into a women, which believe me, lots of people would pay a rather hefty amount to see Sherlock Holmes in a dress, a wig and high heels, I dont think you can pull that one off."

"My disguise abilities are far superior, you would be surprised, but right now I'm not in the mood to endure waxing my legs, which, by the way, look fantastic in high heels" Non-chalantly replied Sherlock, in an attempt to make John shut up, but obtaining complete opposite results, which just made him sulk even more.

_Need help, entrance to Hanwell Asylum, Tomorrow, 3:00 PM – SH_

No more than 30 seconds afterwards, he received the following response:

_Sorry Sherlock, Not My Bloody Division – Lestrade_

Sherlock turned off his mobile phone screen, since everyone was being completely annoying to him, and of no use, and without saying another word, hailed a cab, and went into his mind palace, trying to think of solutions on how to gain entrance and comfortably leaving the rest of the nonsense of living behind.

"We need a woman, someone who will work with us"

"Oh! Look who finally decided to rejoin the living! We had started taking bets, Mrs. Hudson, Mary and I, to see how many things we could balance on top of your head before you noticed or they tumbled."

"Mmmm... Mary, she would do just fine. I'll call her and fill her in on what she needs to do."

"No, Sherlock. Dont even think about it."

"But she will love it! She craves it too, the thrill of the chase, the excitement. She is bored right now, according to her latest tweet"

"You will not use my wife as your peon, plus, she is still barely recovering from Izzy's c-section, aand does not have the strength to do any of the heavy lifting for you."

"Shouldn't your wife have a say on what she does or doesn't do? I thought she had a brain of her own"

"Fine, let's call her, and see what she says about the matter." John huffed, as he pulled out his mobile, and dialed, knowing that he would lose this fight, only because what he had meant as defending his wife from danger, had come out showing him as rather macho and overpowering, and Sherlock was sure to point out to Mary the second she picked up.

"John, Hi! Did I win? Was it six books and his skull?"

"Hello Mary"

"Oh, Sherlock, it's you... I'm guessing that they didn't get to do any testing. Shame, I was actually looking forward to a little bit of fun, I'm a bit bored here."

"See, John, I told you she was bored."

"Yes, no point rubbing it in my face yet again. Mary, Sherlock has something to ask you, I dont agree, but it is your decision, not mine, as it has been pointed out to me."

"Well, Sherlock, what is this thing that my husband doesn't agree with?"

"For the case we are working on, we need to gain access to a women only facility, and you are the perfect person to do so. You are smart, cunning, not afraid of getting in trouble or danger, and can observe things. Plus, I know I can trust you."

"I apprecitate all the compliments and the praise, Sherlock, but currently I have to deal with a baby that requires all my time, attention and to whom I am willing to give it completely, I'm still trying to get the hang of this new role in my life, and even though I am flattered that you thought of me for this case, I do have to decline the offer. Besides, you dont have anything to offer to me, you still owe me about 4 nights worth of babysitting. Oh Izzy, not again! Sorry everyone, I have to go and change out of this dirty shirt for the forth time today, and tell John that we need more milk."

Reluctantly, Sherlock laid the phone on his desk, feeling now that his best opportunity to solve this case had escaped because of 6 month old girl, and one he actually adored, and he was now back at square one, which made him feel more frustrated than angry, especially when this had been the case he had been waiting for quite a while and was almost causing him to give up on it because it was more of an inconvenience than a thrill.

"Ok, Mary is out of the picture, how about Sally?" Interjected John, trying to break the momentary silence that fallen on the flat.

"No, Sargeant Donovan will not work with me. I need someone who will be willing to work under my conditions and that would trust me."

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"No, I need her here, in Baker Street. Her role will come, but not yet."

Sherlock started pacing the sitting room, listing in his head the qualifications he was looking for, _Smart, Clever, Trusthworthy, Loyal, Agile. _Like an echo, a conversation he previously had with someone had started filling his head, getting louder and louder with every step he took, until the only thing he could hear was his own voice, saying the same word, over and over. _You._

"Of course! Why hadnt I thought of... John, let's go, we need to see someone."

"Who?"

"Tell you on the way, we need to leave now."

Sherlock ran out of the flat, his coat billowing as he descended the stairs, almost jumping them, his feet seemed to be carried like the wind, John a bit surprised the sudden speed the whole case had taken. Once he finally caught up with Sherlock, he was already inside a cab, giving instructions to the driver and throwing him daggers for looks. John climbed inside, and as soon as he did, the cab whizzed through traffic, making him realize what their destination and newest member of the team was real soon.


	4. Spice up your life

It had been a quiet day, and now it was turning into a boring one. She felt overwhelmed with all the paperwork she was being surrounded, but Molly knew that the paper piles had been her fault, since she had been giving unnecessary priority to other tasks before having to enter all her notes and information to the computer. Her boss had almost yelled upon noticing the lack of information on her last 3 weeks of autopsies, and banned Molly from the morgue until all her paperwork was filed and in order.

Molly got up from her desk, walked quietly towards her office door, slowly turning the handle, in order to reduce the squeak that her door usually made whenever someone would open it, and glanced both ways of the corridor. Once she realized that no one was around, she gleefully closed the door, walked back towards her desk and clicked on the music player on her computer, brought out the speakers she kept hidden in one of her desk drawers, plugged them in, and she started swaying to the music. Now she could handle anything.

The sounds of 90's pop girl group music wrapped Molly into the motion, turning the swaying into full on dancing. She was so lost in the rhythim, doing the choreography along with the song, eyes closed, that she didn't hear her door open and close. Her dancing was abruptly stopped when she bumped into a wall.

Molly opened her eyes, since the wall had just made a weird "Hmmpth" sound, and her hands flew straight to her mouth, covering the small squeal that escaped her lips. It hadn't been a wall that stopped her.

"I am appalled over such music selection, Ms. Hooper."

"Sherlock! Shut up." Hissed John, while elbowing him right in the ribs, and rolling his eyes, like he always did whenever Sherlock would display his lack of social skills. "Hello, Molly" said John, while taking his phone out of his pocket and proceeding to check the messages.

"Hi John… Hello Sherlock." Her voice just above a whisper, as she proceeded to turn off the speakers, trying to hide her blushing face away from the intruders in her office. Her blush came more from the fact that someone had actually had seen her perform the choreography to a Spice Girls song, rather from any sentimental fact, but that did contribute to it a little, to be honest.

"Molly, I need to discuss something…"

"What body part do you need now? If you give a couple of days, I might be able to get you a whole…"

Sherlock just stared sideways at Molly, who upon looking up from her desk stopped talking and just broke into a smile. She loved the way she could throw him off his track.

"Actually, Molly, we are here because we need your assistance for the case in progress, but since John has received about 4 messages, all from Mary, all urging him to get back home because it is his turn to look after Isabelle, going by the fact that he has glanced nervously his watch about seven times since he last checked his phone, I think you will have to join me at Baker Street later today. Please come right after your shift. Come on John."

Molly was so flabbergasted at the speed that Sherlock had delivered his intention for his appearance at her office and their subsequent exit, that she found herself only nodding in consent at the petition of Sherlock. At least this time he had said please.

After giving herself a couple of seconds to compose herself, and rechecking that indeed no one was still around, Molly locked the door to her office, turned the speakers back on, and resumed her dancing. _Bloody Sherlock Holmes, how dare you interrupt my personal dance party!_. She indulged herself for a bit. Molly walked back to her desk, turned the music down and actually started the work she was meant to do.

Her mind was so focused that she didn't notice when the sun went down, and was only brought back to reality, away from documents and numbers and data, when her wristwatch beeped the usual chirpy alarm, letting her know it was time to leave. That wristwatch had been actually a gift from an ex-boyfriend, who complained too often that Molly would much prefer to stay working than to be with him, and he was right, in a way.

_Hmm… It's only half past 7, I think I have enough time to grab something to eat, knowing Sherlock, he will only have body parts in the fridge and coffee in the pantry. _

Molly was determined to stop at her favorite Chinese takeout place, already placing the order in her brain, when her phone started buzzing with messages being received, and since she had been waiting to hear back from Meena, her best friend who was currently on the last stages of planning her wedding and depended on Molly for moral support whenever things were about to make her explode.

She took her phone out of her bag, only to notice that instead of a panicking girlfriend, she was needed to deal with a different type of crisis.

Molly, your shift is over, please come to Baker St. - SH

Please do not stop to get dinner, I already ate some crisps. - SH

Shaking her head at the screen, Molly decided to make a call to Meena and leave her a message, letting her know that she might be a bit out of reach for a while, nothing scary, just dealing with another crisis, all while walking towards the Tube station.

About 20 minutes after, Molly found herself standing in front of the almost infamous Baker Street address, dreading her decision of not stopping for something to eat before, since her stomach was protesting the fact that the only thing she had to eat all day were only some candy and several cups of coffee. Fearing that it was too late, she rang the doorbell, which was mercifully answered by Mrs. Hudson, who always fussed over her, and despite all protests that Sherlock was awaiting her, dragged her into her flat, and served her some of the shepherd's pie she had been preparing all afternoon, which Molly graciously accepted.

"Martha, this… food… is delicious! It's been quite a while since I've had a chance to prepare something like this!" Said Molly, trying to talk in between bites.

"Dear, you should stop here more often then! I miss having a girl to gossip with, plus I know that you will appreciate it, not like someone else" said Mrs. Hudson, rolling her eyes towards the flat above, which caused Molly to smile.

"Mrs. Hudson, I would very much appreciate if you would let Ms. Hooper go and not hold her up with trivialities like dinner or talking, specially when I requested for her to meet me here. Molly, please get up and follow me, we have lost valuable time."

"First of all, Sherlock... " Said Molly, swallowing the last piece of food that had been moments ago on her plate. "I hadn't finished having dinner with Martha, who graciously fed me after a long day of eating junk. And second, you are NOT the boss of me, Sherlock Holmes, and I will go whenever I feel like it."

Sherlock felt stunned. Molly usually would act like that whenever she was angry at him, which was not often, and knowing that she needed for her to be on a good mood to cooperate with his plan, decided to do something he despised doing.

"I'm sorry Molly, forgive me for my outburst. This is something that needs immediate attention, but do take your time. Excuse me, I will return to my flat." And with the same silent manner in which he arrived, he left Mrs. Hudson's flat, leaving Molly feeling happy for putting him in his place, as well as making him pay for all the other times he had taken advantage of her.

"Dear, I think you should go up now, otherwise we won't be able to withstand all his sulking"

"Yes, Martha... I will go see what His Royal Pain in the Rear wants. Take care!"

Molly headed toward flat B, taking her time going up the steps, just because she knew that Sherlock got impatient with her whenever she went up or down flights of stairs, not everyone felt comfortable running up or down something that had a huge potential for injuries or death, as Molly was familiar with, after quite a few autopsies with the same cause of death.

When she finally arrived at the landing, Molly gently pushed the door open and entered, knowing that Sherlock had most likely had left it unlocked for her, as he would usually do. He was standing with his back towards the doorway. Molly closed the door behind her, which made Sherlock turn around. "Molly..." Sherlock walked towards her.

"Yes, Sherlock? What was so urgent and private that you needed for me to be here?"

Sherlock got even closer to Molly, still gazing directly into her warm brown eyes, and slowly reached for Molly's hands and hold them together, close to both their chests. Molly's first instinct was to yank her hands off from his hold, which wasn't strong in any way, but his warmth and softness Sherlock was displaying in that gesture threw her thoughts off and just stood there.

"Molly Hooper, you are the person I need. You possess all attributes a man really looks for, and actually needs, and…"

"Sherlock. What are you doing?" Said Molly nervously, yanking her hands from his grasp quicker than the blinking of an eye. "What the hell, Sherlock? What are you doing?" Her voice getting unusually high and filled with panic, she even considered running out of the flat, but her body stopped responding and was only able to walk towards the couch and sit down.

"Oh, sorry Molly, I fear you misunderstood me. What I meant to say is that I really need your help for the case I'm currently working on since you have the attributes and skills I need. I needed for you to come here so I could fill you in on what exactly you need to do."

"And you couldn't simply say precisely that? You almost gave me a heart attack!" Molly had regained her energy and moxy and walked up to Sherlock and wanted to slap him in the face yet again, but settled with punching his arm as hard as she could.

"Ok, good, but I think I really need to teach you how to properly throw a punch, in order to inflict more pain with less effort."

"SHERLOCK! I SWEAR, I'M ABOUT TO SLAP YOU AGAIN!" Molly yelled, throwing all the cushions she managed to get her hands on to Sherlock, managing to hit him a couple of times, once in the head, which made her feel happy.

Sherlock, who rarely hid from anyone, was now holding a cushion as a shield, trying to avoid any more hits to the head, not because they were painful, but to avoid the look of rage from the petite, but extremely powerful lady standing in front of him. "Molly… Molly… Please calm down, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I admit it was not good from my part to say that."

He threw the pillow into his chair, and raised his hands in a sign of surrender. Molly just stood there watching him, slightly shaking, trying to regain her composure.

"You once told me that if there was anything I needed, anything at all, I could have you. And yet again..."

"What do you need? Body parts? Access to the lab after hours? My flat?"

"You. I actually need you and all your skills." Sherlock started slowly pacing around the room. "Although, a bit of training will have to be in order, bring your fighting skills up to par, just in case the situation arises..." He kept muttering things to himself, ignoring the fact that Molly was still standing in the same room.

"Sorry, what? What situation? Sherlock, what are you talking about?"

"Oh yes, I need you to break into a mental health hospital, gain as much information you can get and report back to me. Some fighting might be involved, maybe even some shooting, that is why I need to train you. Basically, I need you to become my own consultant detective."

"I'm not a bloody soldier or detective, Sherlock! I don't even like guns! I can help within my capabilities, but this is too much. I.. I.. I cant' do it and I won't do it! Good night, Sherlock." said Molly, grabbing her bag from the floor and heading out, only to be held back by Sherlock, who was pulling on the strap of her purse, in the attempt to make her stay.

"That is why you will come here every day, and I will train you. Actually, bring you up to par, since I've seen that you actually possess most of the necessary skills to accomplish the job. I've already called your boss and inform him that your services have been required for a private matter and that you cannot show up to work. You're welcome"

"What about all the work I haven't finished, the research I had started in the lab? I can't just leave it like that! People are expecting the results and the reports of my autopsies!"

"Dont worry. Mycroft has already appointed your replacement while you assist me, and will be reporting directly to you, just so you can have peace of mind regarding your work. As for your research, that can be brought and set up for you to work here, in my personal lab space… "

"Or kitchen, as a normal human being would call."

"Or, I can have Mycroft set up a special lab portion near here for you to work. I think we can convince Mrs. Hudson to allow us to convert her unused flat as a you find more convenient for you."

"Basically, you are saying you really need me and you are willing to do anything in order for me to help you." Molly stared at him sideways, almost not believing what she had just heard.

"Yes, exactly." Sherlock said, while walking up to her, having long ago let go of the strap of her purse, and now standing as close to her as he felt comfortable.

"Sherlock… I will need some time to think. This is too much to take in one evening. I will give you my answer in the morning. Good night, Sherlock."

"Good night, Molly Hooper." He leaned down and gently kissed her cheek, before she headed out and closed the door behind her, leaving Sherlock standing by the doorway, wondering why he had felt the need to kiss her.

Molly still felt in a bit of a daze while she walked towards the Tube station, her mind recalling the odd conversation she had just experienced with Sherlock, but mostly the kiss. Sherlock had kissed her in the cheek before, but it always felt like it was his way of paying her back for some of his misdeeds or trying to get her on his good side, but this kiss felt different. It felt like it came as a surprise for both. The kiss, combined with his choice of words, really threw her off.

When she arrived at her flat, Toby was already waiting for her by the door, expecting to be fed as quickly as possible. "Oh, my dear Toby. Tonight was the oddest night, I'm not even sure I really understand what is happening." And as if he understood, Toby responded with a meow and a bit of a hiss. "Yes, Toby, Sherlock is indeed involved in all of this."

Molly loved her cat, mostly because he seemed to understand her, and whenever she mentioned Sherlock to him, he would either hiss or his hair would stand up. He clearly didn't like the man who hurt or took advantage of Molly. This all made her smile and giggle.

After changing into her pajamas and drinking a cup of tea, Molly considered the proposal that Sherlock had made her, all the considerations towards her needs and interests. It all seemed really nice, but she had real responsibilities with her work. But she couldn't stop thinking about the promise she had indeed made to Sherlock, that whatever he needed, anything at all, she was going to be there for him.

Molly never broke her promises.

She grabbed her phone, and sent him a text.

Sherlock, I've thought about it, and I will help you. What do you need? - Molly xoxo

No more than 5 seconds had passed, when she got this response.

Come to Baker St. at 9 am, we need to start ASAP - SH

Thank you, Molly Hooper. - SH

In Baker Street, a huge smile broke on the face of Sherlock Holmes.


	5. Me, a Princess? Shut up!

The first rays of sun came through Molly's bedroom window, making Toby shift slightly, just so he would lay down and enjoy the rare extra warmth. It seemed that even the weather wanted to brighten the mood, make things a bit easier on Molly by providing a nice, clear and bright day. It seemed like the Universe was still conspiring to help Sherlock, just because it was rarely so lazy.

"Hmm… Good Mornin' Toby, chap" Yawned Molly, stretching her arm in order to scratch her cat's ears, who in return purred happily. "If only others were so easy to please, and wouldn't make me get up at the ungodly hour of 8:00 in the morning in order to keep them in what I hope is a civil mood, things would be a lot better."

She finally threw the covers aside, causing her cat to throw a hiss at her, despite remaining buried under the duvet. Molly just smiled at the lump in her bed, slowly headed towards her dresser, pulled out her outfit for the day, grabbed her towel and bathrobe, and headed towards the shower, looking forward for a bit of warm water on her face to finally wake her up.

As soon as she stepped out of the shower, her phone began ringing, displaying the goofy selfie her best friend Meena had taken especially for her phone, which made Molly break a smile and proceeded to answer.

"Molls! Molly! Mo-Mo! Bestie! Maid of Honor! Molly! Molly! Molly!..."

"Oh Meena, you know how much I hate when you call me Mo-Mo, makes me feel like a cow for some reason."

"But you're the cutest cow in history, Mo-Mo! But with all seriousness, I need my best Maid of Honor to report for duty, since I'm about to either kill both the caterer, florist and wedding planner or maybe just cancel everything. I need you Mowwy!"

"Meens, I'm so so sorry, but _You know who _summoned me to be in his presence, that he needed me for who knows what, and you know how he gets if I ignore his demands."

"And you wait till now to tell me this? You know how much I love distractions! Did he storm your lab with his demands or what? Tell me, woman!"

"No, the _bloody _sod made me go to his flat to ask me, almost gave me a heart attack in the process"

"That prick! Tell me exactly what he said, or I swear that I will make you wear that _lovely_ bridesmaid dress my mother in law suggested, that one that you said looked like week-old bile "

As Molly recalled the events of last night, her best friend only dared gasp and huff, being at a loss for words for once, which was a hard feat considering that Meena could yap Molly's ear for days, especially with all the wedding preparation.

Meena had met Molly at Bart's, where she worked as a nurse in the obstetric wing, and taking a bit of pity on the poor girl sitting always by herself in the canteen, invited her to sit with the other nurses, and found a best friend on the way.

"And that is how my evening went on, with a heart attack and the intense desire to kill, thank goodness I had a chocolate bar in my purse."

"Oh, Molls, if I didn't have to look fabulous for my announcement pictures, I would give a piece of my mind to that man of yours…"

"Meena, you know that he is not my man, and that I have given up on his, specially since the act from yesterday. No decent man would lure a lady like that just to tell her that he just needs her for illicit activities, most likely. He didn't even say exactly what he needed, and now I have to finish getting ready so I can _see_ the man whose name doesn't even deserve to be mentioned so he can keep telling me how much he needs me."

"No fair, Moo Moo, I claimed you first!"

"Hey! I belong to no one but my main guy, who is currently sitting in my bed, naked."

"You know that Toby doesn't count, and it is still gross that you say that he is naked, he does have fur, which did fortunately did grow back after the cat sitting stint done by the man we shall not mention. After you are done with Mr. High and Mighty, call me, we still need to choose what color of servilletes we will use to gag both my mother and mother in law. Bye Molls!"

With a click, the other voice at the end of the line faded, which brought Molly back to the real world, realizing she was still only halfway dressed, and wearing different shoes in each foot. It was always perilous trying to multitask while speaking with Meena. She laughed while she finished getting properly dressed, drunk a cup of coffee that was already waiting for her from that marvelous Christmas gift she had given herself, a coffee maker that had a timer, so she would always wake up to coffee freshly done. She fed Toby, and proceeded to head towards Baker Street.

As soon as she stepped into the curb, her phone rang, a text message:

Step into the car, Ms. Hooper.

Even when the message didn't say who had sent it, she knew. It wasn't the first time that the older Holmes brother would barge in her life, usually it was concerning the younger Holmes sibling, and she was always happy to help, but today she wasn't in the mood, which made her do an act of defiance and made her continue walking down the street, the car following her, jerking to sudden stops every now and then.

"Miss Hooper, please, come inside" spoke Mycroft Holmes from the rolled down of the mysterious black car.

"No, I'm not in the mood, blame your brother for that" Shouted Molly, as she proceeded to walk even faster.

"Miss Hooper, I really do need to speak with you, I have a grand favor to ask from you. Please."

"Ugh, what is it with you Holmes'es and favors lately? Does everyone really need a lowly pathologist to help out? Because I doubt it, but ok." Molly stopped and climbed into the car, where both Mycroft and Anthea, his assistant eagerly awaited, car door already open, awaiting her to get in.

"Molly, a pleasure to see you again. I apologize for the manner of how my boss approached you. He refused to have proper breakfast again this morning, and went straight for the pastries... "

"Not true! I also had some…" His voice went down to a mumble, something that both siblings did whenever they realized that what they were saying was embarrassing to admit in front of others, trusted or not. Anthea just smirked and checked her phone.

"Ahem. Miss Hooper. I thank you for accepting to speak with me. I know that my little brother has brought upon himself some perilous situations with this new case of his, and that he tried to enlist your help. I would kindly ask you to report back to me on his plans."

"Sorry, Mycroft, but no. I will not be your informant, and I still don't even know exactly what Sherlock needs from me. If you need your dirty work done, get someone who will obey as a puppy. Good day, Anthea, Mycroft." Said Molly, tapping the window behind her, making the car stop at the curb, and proceeding to get out.

Conveniently, the car had stopped close to an Underground entrance, so Molly dug around her purse, fishing out her Oyster card, and followed the crowd towards the train. Her phone kept beeping and buzzing like crazy. _No doubt is one of the two reasons my day is going from bad to worse_, she thought, and only took the phone out of her trouser pocket and buried it inside her purse while she rode the train.

When she arrived to the infamous 221 Baker Street door, Molly's mood had been somewhat placated, but she unloaded her fury against the doorbell to flat B, ringing as much as she could, knowing that the exact same thing was one of the major irritants of Sherlock. To her surprise, Mrs. Hudson answered the door.

"Sweetie! It is a pleasure to see you! Are you here to see..." said Mrs. Hudson as she gestured with her head at the flat above.

"Unfortunately, yes, Martha, and by the way, your hair looks amazing today! You have to tell me what you do to make it look so nice always!"

"Molly, you are too good! Head on up, and I'll be there in a bit with some tea and biscuits for you, and don't you dare share them with him. These I bought just for us."

Molly proceeded to go up the stairs, a smile on her face, thinking on how lucky she was that such a kind soul was willing to treat her like a daughter, especially since her mother had abandoned her when she was only a baby, she had always wished for someone to love her as unconditionally as Martha Hudson did, showering with attention, concern and even some saucy stories from her past.

Lost in the daze of her wishes, her feet made the trek up the stairs, only stopping at the door of 221B. Not knowing whether to knock or just open, she decided to just open, hoping to annoy Sherlock by just barging in, as is his way of entering. Molly took a deep breath, considered briefly turning up the collar on her blouse, chuckled at the idea and proceeded to channel her inner Sherlock by throwing the door open and just waltzing into an empty sitting room, or so she thought.

Hidden under the desk, Sherlock had incidentally gone into his Mind Palace trying to device the proper manner of engaging Molly's brain in order to hone her deduction skills if she was going to be part of the case now, so when the woman in question actually came to the room, he was unaware of it actually happening, despite his pride over his heightened observation skills.

By the time Sherlock actually snapped out of his Mind Palace, a whole plan and map of how the whole day was going to go, he climbed from under the desk only to find Molly sitting on his black leather chair, empty cup of tea sitting in front of her, shortcake biscuit halfway to her mouth, watching some period drama on TV, completely lost on the story unfolding in front of her. Sherlock became engrossed in watching Molly, this version of her, a relaxed, unaware of the world, I-will-enjoy-sappy-tv-shows-and-biscuits Molly, she looked so gorgeous, he did not dare interrupt her bliss, but his mouth decided it was time he became noticed by letting an "Hmmh"

Her head turned to face Sherlock, who looked like he had been cramped in a small space, going by the rather wrinkled navy blue shirt and creased trousers, disheveled hair that had gone flat in some areas, but somehow managing to look stylish still, something that no one else would be able to achieve, at least no one Molly had or wanted to date before.

"Finally! I had been sitting here waiting for you to pop up from your play fort for about, let's see… 3 hours now?" Molly said, checking her wristwatch "It must have been something rather important for you to ignore me despite your frantic request of 22 text messages urging me to get here as fast as humanly possible."

"I was simply trying this new program that sends text messages for me, it will perfect for when I need to annoy Mycroft or send information to Graham…"

"Graham? You mean Greg Lestrade?"

"Whomever, not important right now. What is important is getting you settled. I've already arranged to have all your stuffed picked up from your old flat…"

"Wait? Old flat? What happened to my flat? Sherlock!"

"Oh yes, did I forgot to mention it? You are going to be living here as of today. So all your stuff is on it's way, and we need to get started in your training, because we are losing time, as John kindly reminds me every single time."

Molly was too shocked again, not knowing if she wanted to hit Sherlock in the head again for making such big decisions on her behalf without even consulting with her, just assuming that she was ok with them, or turned on by his impulse and his resolution. She could only let her mouth gap open slightly, while Sherlock droned on and on about what needed to be done.

"Molly, did you listen? I said that we need to go out, because as well as you dress yourself, we need to make you pass for a royal family member if I want to solve this bloody case that Mycroft sent this morning. I hate going to the shops, but I doubt that your closet contains something form fitting or proper for a ball. No offense."

"A ball? What are a you talking about, Sherlock? And why do I need to go to this event? Sherlock!" babbled Molly as she was being led out into the street by the hand by Sherlock as the information was trying to sink into her head. Both got into a cab and sped towards the heart of the city, Sherlock like always, busy on his phone, while Molly was still trying to process all the information.

The cab stopped in front of a rather fancy building, that had lovely glass doors and where a golden chandelier hung, casting a soft warm glow unto the inside. Sherlock paid the cab driver, and briskly walked up to Molly's door and opened it for her, also extending his hand to help her out, which shocked her. Molly never expected that a prick like him would have manners, or to use them on her, at least not going from their previous interactions.

"Where are we, Sherlock? I don't think I can afford anything here. Something tells me that wherever shop we are, is going to be more than my whole uni tuition."

"Don't' worry about that Molly, this will added to my client's bill, and since the client is almost entirely the whole British Government, I think we can spoil ourselves. Now come, we don't have all day."

" Bonjour Monsieur Holmes, 'ze usual for you, I suppose?"

" Oui, Antoinne, and this is Miss Hooper, we will need a ball gown for her, as well as all accessories, we are attending a party tonight."

" Of course, monsieur, right away. Madame, s'il vous plaît follow me"

Molly was whisked away and made to stand in a small platform where somehow she was stripped down to her underwear, while a young woman began measuring her and 2 other ladies began bringing dress after dress. In a manner of what seemed minutes, the whole room was filled with racks and racks of different styles of dresses in all shapes and colors, as well as shoes, purses and other boxes that Molly didn't even had an idea what they had, while the 2 ladies began dressing her in gown after gown.

Sherlock came back looking immaculate in tails, top hat held between his arm and chest, his focus solely on his phone. He was about to remark that they were running late and that they still needed to figure out what to about how Molly was to present herself when he finally looked up.

There she was, still blushing from the fact that someone had taken off all her clothes and forced into beautiful works of fashion, hair tangled up from all the dresses pulled and pushed, but currently looking stunning in a pale yellow ball gown, that looked as if was made of the softest, most delicate fabric, because it seem to float around with her slightest move, yet still showing off the amazing body that normally hid behind baggy jumpers and frilly blouses. She looked like an angel, and he could not help but smile.

"Sod off, Sherlock, no need to laugh at my misfortune of a body and looks. I'm still not sure why I need to be at this event..."

"Trust me, I need you there, plus John doesn't look quite as nice in a dress as you do. Miss, we will need accessories fit for a royal that go with this dress, and quick, we still have another stop to make." Said Sherlock while handing out a credit card that suspiciously had Mycroft's name in it to the lady that had taken Molly initially.

A plethora of boxes and bags were thrusted into Molly's arms, who nearly stumbled by the sheer surprise, but was straighten back up by Sherlock, who skillfully took all of them from her, and led her back into another cab, whisking her away to another fancy location, where as soon as she walked in was made to sit, primping her from head to toe, helping her change into that night's outfit.

In a scene that seemed out of a romantic comedy, Molly walked out towards the lobby where Sherlock had been awaiting for what had seemed an eternity for the salon to finish making his pathologist look more like royalty, but midway Molly tripped on the high heels she was wearing, but was graciously caught in Sherlock's arms, who dipped her and straight her back, his face in full surprise of how amazing Molly looked.

"Well, Princess Marguerite of Sweden, your escort and car await", Sherlock said, leading her by the arm onto the street and into a fancy black car.


End file.
